The Forsaken Hero

Life quickly fell into a pattern. Once or twice a day, the door would open, and Bilev or his mother, whose name I learned was Emrily, would appear, carrying a mug of herbal tea. Aside from their infrequent visits, and the rowdy nights, I spent the remainder of the days drifting through dreams and nightmares. Oftentimes, I awoke clutching the sheets tightly, tears running down my face.

By the third day, they began bringing a small bowl of soup, and on the sixth, it was joined by bread and other solid food. Months of neglect and torture had left my body broken and weak, but gradually, my strength began to return. My wound began to heal, losing the bright, angry colors and fading into scabs. The damage was severe, but unless I stressed the muscle or tried to move, the pain was reduced to a dull ache. Occasionally, I’d be able to understand a conversation nearby for a few minutes, but it was always random and unpredictable and lasted for only a few minutes. It never happened when someone visited, but even if it would, I decided to keep that information to myself. Explaining it in a short time would be impossible, not to mention raise far more questions than I had answers to.

I awoke on the seventh day with some trepidation. The inn below was livelier than usual, and Helron’s promise to return loomed in my mind. I was reaching the point I could sit up on my own, and it wouldn’t be much longer before I would be able to walk. Bilev made it no secret he disliked my presence, and only Emrily’s stern, domineering insistence prevented him from throwing me back into the woods.

I learned several things through the scattered snippets of conversation. The village was named Westfall Village, and was one of five settlements in the region. It and three other villages, named after the cardinal directions, provided outlying communities to the central city of Heartland. The name Brithlite came up several times, but it didn’t sound like I was within the borders.

That was just as well, as they had little fondness for my kind. The only real concern I had was that I would be forced to leave the area. The ninth-level demonkin instructed me to wait for ”her,” whoever that was supposed to be. Fate would undoubtedly guide her here, but if I left would she still be able to find me?

I froze as the sound of voices startled me from my thoughts, and I turned to find the door open. My chest tightened as Bilev and Helron entered, followed by a younger boy and girl, looking no older than myself. The older men were deep in discussion, while the younger pair looked at me with wide, curious eyes. The boy was tall and strong, a wolfkin, with a sword at his hip. The girl had long, brunette hair, and a face that rested somewhere between pretty and beautiful. She seemed human, but had slightly pointed ears and startling green eyes. A half-elf, perhaps. I’d never seen one, but her elfin features weren’t near as exaggerated as Selena, or the other elves I’d met during my travels.

Beliv set a bowl of stew on the nightstand. Judging by the steamy aroma, it was left over from the night before. I flinched as he made a move to feed me, shying away until he rolled his eyes and handed me the spoon. I struggled to something resembling a sitting position and took the bowl, testing the temperature before setting it in my lap. Warm, but not hot.

They began talking in their unknown language, rapidly throwing points back and forth. I’d long since given up trying to decipher their intentions through body language, and simply immersed myself in eating. Every bite was a chore, my hands didn’t seem to want to cooperate, and the close proximity of the visitors only made that much more difficult. After nearly dropping the spoon for the third time, I froze as a soft hand fell on my shoulder, dangerously close to the Sunpurge.

”Please, allow me,” the half-elf girl said in Beastkin. She knelt by the bedside and took the spoon.

I searched the depths of her eyes, and finding no guile, reluctantly nodded. She felt much gentler than Bilev, and even Emrily, who fawned over me like a young child. After a few seconds, she spoke again, keeping her voice quiet to not disturb the two men in their conversation.

”I’m Tana, and that’s Sorrin,” she said, nodding to the Wolfkin. ”We’re both from the Beast Kingdom and were lucky to end up here. Heartland’s a great place with wonderful people. There are a lot of people like us here, so you don’t have to worry about anything. I heard what happened with the wolf and that monster. Are you able to speak? Could you tell me about it?”

Drawn in by her warm sincerity, I found myself nodding. My voice was dry and cracked from disuse, barely rising above a whisper, so she leaned close to hear. I had enough presence of mind to keep things vague, especially concerning my origin, but gave her a summary of the wolf attack as best as my hazy memories would allow. She reacted at all the right parts, gasping in fear as I described the chase through the woods and patting my hand as I described the bite.

I hesitated as I reached the part about the wolf, not entirely certain how to describe it. It would be easy to pass it off as an infernal wolf, but it didn’t quite feel right. Furthermore, the appearance of such a powerful infernal monster meant a sizeable gate had appeared nearby, something which I knew wasn’t true. The church had a good handle on predicting gates, and if there were one of that magnitude, the entire area would be crawling with soldiers and heroes. I briefly entertained the idea it might have something to do with my arrival, but hadn’t explored it fully when she nudged my hand.

”And the monster?” She prompted.

I nodded, feeling a tremble course through my tail as I recalled its vicious, blood-soaked maw. ”It was big, and had horns and fur like steel. It bit the other wolves in half with one bite and moved so quickly I couldn’t see it. I...I ran as soon as I could, so I don’t know what happened to it.”

”That’s okay, no one blames you for that. It’s just that it sounds dangerous, and Guild Master wants to get as much information as he can before hunting it.”

She spoke to me as though I were a small child, and to my shame, it seemed to work. My trembling stopped, and I managed to take a few deep breaths. My heart was too frail and unstable, with even the smallest noise setting me off. I had faced down dragons and demons, seen things no one in this world could imagine, and yet a wolf frightened me?

No, it wasn’t the wolf, or the near brush I had with death. It wasn’t even the pain, or the darkness writhing in my heart. No, I was alone, and I was afraid.

Ever since being summoned to this world, my fate has been written. I was a slave, destined for torture, abuse, and eventually death. That future became certain when the Archon appeared and was fulfilled in the inquisitor’s halls and Lord Byron’s mansion.

But now there was nothing. I was free, but I was also lost. What was I meant to do? Where was I meant to go? What purpose did my life have? None of those questions had answers. It felt as though I was simply a broken piece on a long-forgotten chessboard, destined for nothing but the shadows of history.

It was those insecurities, combined with the cruel scars of the past, that gripped my heart, and shook my hand. The only thing supporting me was the vague hope that my life was meant for more, that someone was coming for me.

”H-hey, there’s no need to cry,” Tana said quickly, stroking my cheek and brushing away my tears with her thumb. ”It’s all over now. And I heard your wound’s getting better too. Mind if I take a look?”

I shook my head, still wondering when I had started crying. She carefully unwrapped my thigh, working on the bandages with dexterous, practiced fingers. For the first time, I noticed a glowing amulet around her neck. It was a raw, unpolished emerald, bound with fine gold wire and secured to a silver chain. The gem sparkled with inner light, resonating with the ambient mana in the air.

Tana grasped her amulet tightly and laid a hand on my thigh, resting it lightly on the torn flesh. I hissed softly, drawing in a short breath, as the touch sent a sprinkle of fire through my leg.

She chanted a spell, accompanied by two magic circles. ”Lesser Restoration,” she breathed.

An uncomfortable, cool itch crawled over my leg as the flesh knit together. Scabs faded and new skin flowed over the wound, drawing together until only a thin white scar remained. The half-elf sat back, panting lightly, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

”I’m sorry it’s not much,” she said, giving my newly healed thigh a comforting squeeze. ”There might be someone better at healing in Heartland itself, but that’s the best I can do. I don’t think I managed to heal all the internal damage, but it should heal on its own over the next few months. The wolf tore through you’re hamstring and muscles. It’s a nasty trick they use for hunting, and without magic, I don’t think you’d ever be able to walk on it again.”

”Thank you,” I whispered, flexing my leg. A sharp, fiery line of pain shot up the back of my thigh, but it was light in comparison to what I was feeling before.

”Can you stand?” the Wolfkin asked, walking over.

I cringed as he approached, my tail twitching nervously. His eyes were cold and hard, bearing the strength of battle. He had killed before, and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.

Tana frowned and snapped something in the unknown language. His wolf ears flicked irritably, but he sighed and stood back, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. The two men glanced up, apparently arriving at a conclusion that satisfied them both. Bilev left and Helron said something to Tana.

The half-elf’s eyes shone and she grasped my hand in hers, her tone soft and gentle once more. ”Would you like to see the village?”